It is all that matters
by ianstrawberry
Summary: 'Caring is not an advantage Sherlock,' Mycroft tells his little brother for the first but not last time and holds his gaze, as if making sure his wise words have come across before turning his attention back to the chapter before him. 'Love then. Is it important' Sherlock asks, curious as he is. Mycroft doesn't answer. Sherlock drabbles, before John
1. A

It's a frosty morning in January. Mycroft's room is cold, just like Sherlock's fingers on his microscope. Mycroft sits nearby with a book in his hands, sending Sherlock looks from time to time. Just to keep track of his movements.

The eight year old twists the coarse focusing knob and stares through the ocular lens. Sherlock has been sticking himself in the finger a couple of times this morning, and is now examining his own blood thoroughly.

'Mycroft?'

Mycroft's gaze stays on Sherlock a little longer this time, before he returns his gaze to his book.

'Yes?' Sherlock is quiet for a few seconds. Their breaths are the only sounds that fill the big room.

'What is the definition of friendship?' he asks, and turns his head to study Mycroft across the room. Mycroft answers as if reading it directly out of a dictionary.

'It is a bond of mutual affection, typically exclusive of sexual or family relations.' Sherlock doesn't have any of those, he quietly muses to himself before voicing his second question.

'But is it important?' Mycroft finally looks up at Sherlock, and he narrows his eyes.

'Caring is not an advantage Sherlock,' he tells his little brother for the first but not last time and holds his gaze, as if making sure his wise words have come across before turning his attention back to the chapter before him.

'Love then. Is it important?' Sherlock asks, curious as he is.

Mycroft doesn't answer.


	2. B

Sherlock is ten and he has a dog. His first friend. He watches the other children in school bully and do other stupid things, and is pleased his friend would never treat him like they treat each other. They're all idiots anyway. Sherlock doesn't need them.

The dog is called Redbeard funnily enough and Sherlock teaches her to chase squirrels for him. Then, when mummy isn't looking, he cuts the squirrel up in the kitchen. The maids are never very happy, but Sherlock doesn't care about them.

One week she behaves weirdly, and Sherlock knows she isn't well. When she one morning isn't lying in Sherlock's bed, Sherlock knows immediately what has been done.

'Where is she?' He asks his parents over breakfast. The couple look at each other.

'I'm sorry Sherlock dear. She was sick. We had to send her away,' his mother says. Sherlock scowls at her lies.

'You had her put down. And now you are lying to me,' he shoots back, and swiftly leaves the dinner table. He doesn't eat for the rest of the day and keeps thinking that maybe Mycroft's words are true after all. Maybe caring isn't an advantage.


	3. C

The classical music would have been pleasant if it weren't for the constant buzzing of human voices. Sherlock scowls into his soda and tries to ignore his overstimulated mind. He keeps overhearing conversations without any useful information, and his head is now filled with irrelevant clutter.

He travels through the crowd, his mind in turmoil. The thoughts are all but sorted, and Sherlock doesn't know how to handle it.

'Dump him. He's sleeping with his best friend,' he tells a passerby, as he moves towards his room. The passerby gapes after him, but doesn't get to respond before Sherlock disappears down the corridor. Some people just can't see the obvious.

Sherlock enters his room and closes the door, only to lean against it with a heavy sigh. His gaze settles onto the new violin lying on his bed, and he is soon moving towards it. Sherlock stops by the bed and picks up the birthday card lying on top of the instrument. The number twelve is written in bold letters on the front cover. The card is thrown over his shoulder and he picks the violin off of the bed. He plays for approximately one hour and fifteen minutes before he returns to his own birthday party.


	4. D

On lunch breaks there's always a group of girls sitting with him by the table. They like a 16 year old Sherlock because he feeds them with all the embarrassing truths about their classmates. Sherlock doesn't care much for them. He just likes to show off his deducing skills.

The girls never really talk about anything interesting. Gossip, fashion, boys and sex is nothing Sherlock cares for. He almost tried sex once, with one of the girls, Samantha Davis. Only for research of course. In the end, even just trying to do it had disgusted him so much he had to leave. Sherlock had to shower three times afterwards before he felt like himself again.

Samantha stops him after lunch one day. Her face is round and her hair is long and blond, tucked neatly behind her ears.

'If you want to, we could try again.' She grips softly around his hand, but he doesn't meet Samantha's shy smile with a charming mask this time. Sherlock is just his usual self, with deducing eyes and unsmiling lips.

'Did you really think I wanted you?' he asks her, and withdraws his hand.

'But-' She looks confused, so Sherlock explains it to her.

'I wanted to understand what the fuss was about. There was nothing more to it. Now join your imbecilic friends,' he tells her and leaves. On his next lunch break he sits alone.


	5. E

A 28 year old Sherlock buys a black ring for his middle finger.

After some research on some accidentally stumbled upon information, the childish part of Sherlock's mind makes him go ring hunting on Ebay. Mycroft comes by on a Friday to check if he is clean, and Sherlock is so indulged in his hunting that he doesn't even notice. The ring must be perfect, and when it comes to fashion, Sherlock never buys anything but dazzling pieces.

It's an acering, symbolising his lack of desire for sex, and a tool to find others with the same sexual label. He knows that it is a totally unnecessary object -the rational part of his mind tells him so- but he can't help himself.

The ring arrives in the mail a week later and Sherlock shoves it onto the middle finger of his right hand in pure excitement. The chance that someone other than Mycroft is going to notice is close to zero, but Sherlock just can't seem to calm himself. The childish buzz shows in his eyes, but there are only a few people who can read the emotions in Sherlock's eyes when his face is always so controlled.

During a visit at scotland yard Lestrade suddenly bores his eyes into Sherlock and drops his work onto his desk.

'Since when are you wearing jewelry?'

Sherlock twists the ring on his finger. 'Since this Tuesday.'

'But why? You would never wear that if there wasn't a reason.' Lestrade points at the black ring. Sherlock is secretly pleased that Lestrade is using his brain for some good this time.

'Yes, quite right Lestrade. The ring has a symbolic meaning.'

'What symbolic meaning?' Of course Lestrade is curious. To keep up appearances Sherlock pretends to be annoyed.

'I could give you a shot at figuring it out by yourself.' He pauses and the corner of his mouth twitches discretely in amusement. 'But no, you're not nearly informed enough to figure it out. I'll tell you, this time.'

Lestrade snorts. 'Yeah. Okay. get on with it.'

Sherlock sighs for dramatic effect. 'A black ring on the right middle finger symbolises a lack of sexual attraction and desire to participate in sexual activities with other beings.' Sherlock twists the ring once again, and admires it with great interest.

'Oh. Okay,' answers a slightly shocked Lestrade. 'You're like that huh?'

Sherlock smirks, with his eyes still locked onto his black ring. 'Yes. I am like that.' And Sherlock has never been ashamed of it.


	6. F

It begins with Sherlock not being able to correct his teachers. He knows he should be able to, but 15 years of information is hard to sort through. There's is so much of it he can't seem to find the right piece when he needs it.

Soon, Sherlock misses several opportunities to outsmart Mycroft when he's showing off to Mummy and Daddy. Mycroft succeeds to impress, and Sherlock sulks silently from the other side of dinner table. Dumb Mycroft always has to appear to be better than Sherlock. He's much more successful at remaining unaffected by what others think , and is even smarter than Sherlock. Sherlock knows that. Still, that doesn't mean he has to show off as much as he does.

Mycroft is always the good and responsible one, and Sherlock ends up being the troublemaker. Sherlock is jealous, not that he would ever be caught dead admitting it.

The teen decides that he has to do something about it, and starts a great and long research process. He misses several of Mycroft's weekly visits (University apparently doesn't make him busy enough.), and doesn't care too much about it. The most important thing is results.

He discovers memory techniques and tries them all to find the best. He ends up with a mind palace that is an exact copy of his grandmother's large old estate. The information Sherlock has spent hours placing within it's walls is easily accesed. He finds that outsmarting people immeditaley becomes much easier.

The next time Mycroft comes over Sherlock makes him look stupid in front of Mummy and Daddy. The teen is smug for the rest of the week.


	7. G

Mycroft always knows all the answers. He's the smartest person Sherlock knows and Sherlock admires his brother greatly. Not unlike how someone would look up to a god.

Mother is having one of her parties again, and there are smartly dressed men drinking champagne in the livingroom. A seven year old Sherlock find them very fascinating, and he tries to think like Mycroft when he speaks to them.

'Make them eat out of your hand,' Mycroft told him once. In Sherlock's case, that means acting like a cute, very well behaved, child. Sherlock smirks and glances up at the kitchen cabinet where Mummy keeps all the chocolate. Soon it will be his.

'Excuse me sirs?' Sherlock stops by two men in the kitchen, around the age of 50 (One is 55 and the other is excited for his upcoming 50th birthday), and smiles pleasantly.

They both look a bit surprised and the younger one sets his wineglass aside on the kitchen counter. 'What is it little chap?' he asks and looks at young Sherlock with a small quirk to his lips.

'Mummy said I could have the chocolate, but I can't reach the kitchen cabinet. Could you please help me?' Sherlock acts as innocent as he is able, widens his eyes and bites his lower lip. The men look at each other with amused expressions on their faces.

'All right. Which cabinet lad?' The younger one turns towards the kitchen cabinets, and looks at Sherlock questioningly. Sherlock points at the top cabinet furthest to the right. The man smiles and grabs the handle and swings the cabinet door open. After a quick look into the space the man grabs a red chocolate box and slowly hands it to Sherlock.

'There you go. Off with you.' The man grins and Sherlock plays excited and runs off with the box. When he rounds the corner he smirks and snorts quietly to himself. Some grown ups are so easily fooled.

When Mycroft later spots the chocolate stains on his chin he pats Sherlock on the shoulder and says, 'Good job.' Sherlock beams at the praise.


	8. H

Despite what Mummy believes will happen, Mycroft is not the first person who offers Sherlock a cigarette.

'Want a cigarette?'

Sherlock turns his head and squints at the young man next to him with his icy eyes.

'Yes,' a 20 year old Sherlock answers. He is handed a cigarette and sticks it in his mouth. The man offers to light it and Sherlock watches intensly as the man makes the tip glow orange with a lit match.

The man is older than Sherlock by a few years with light brown, slicked back hair, and bright blue eyes. He's from a wealthy family. Sherlock can tell by the man's jacket.

'What's your name then?' the man asks and Sherlock expertly manages not to cough after the first drag.

The jacket is new, modern and very fashionable. Likely bought very recently, indicating that the man is either good at saving money, or rich. The right sleeve is covered in graphite smudges, as if dragged over several papers of graphite notes. Therefore hardworking. A man who gives his studies his all.

There's a clock strapped tightly around the man's wrist. It's well cared for and likely thought of often. A gift from a lover, perhaps.

'Sherlock Holmes.' Sherlock introduces himself with his deep voice and offers his hand. The man takes it firmly. 'Victor Trevor.' Tight grip, so probably confident.

At his next drag, Sherlock can't help the little cough that forces itself out of his throat. Trevor grins.

'First time you've smoked Holmes?'

Sherlock clears his throat against his hand, and offers Trevor a little smile.

'Please, call me Sherlock.'


End file.
